Domestic Life
by fluffyfun91
Summary: AU- Their life isn't filled with adventure, isn't rich or special or perfect. But it's the life they built, together. Through all the obstacles, mistakes and hardships; they will always be a family. Various shots in the life of the FACE family; with the main paring FrUk
1. January 4th 2010

_**This 'story' is meant to be a collection of cute, sad, fluffy, angsty Face family moments, all will be in the same AU only there will be a lot of going back and forth in time. **_

_**I'm perfectly aware I have other stories to finish, I'm working on them very hard, but I often suffer from writers block and when that happens, I have to -HAVE TO!- write something else, so I can clear my mind a little. That said, this story will be a place were I randomnly will post a chapter when I can and I hope it will help me get over my writer's block with the other stories.**_

_**That does not mean I'm not commited to this story! I am! This is because I simply and utterly adore the FACE family!**_

_**Without futher ado, enjoy! **_

_**Oh. **_

_**I do not own Hetalia.**_

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_**J**__**anuary 4**__**th**__** 2010**_

Their domestic little life, who would've thought? They fought all the time, they never listened to each other, they seemed to be the worst couple ever. Many people told them they wouldn't last six months when they started dating, Francis could still remember. But they had lasted that long, they had pulled through. As a matter of fact, with all their differences, they seemed to fit like puzzle pieces; belonging only to each other.

Their life together had been happy, far from perfect, riddled with mistakes, but in the end they were still together, they still fought like they were young, they still loved each other.

Thirty-three years, they had been married for thirty-three years. They had even grown old together! Growing old; something Francis had despised; he had wanted to be young forever. But his once glossy blonde hair was now mattered with grey, his once strong body had now weakened; he was an old man. And so was Arthur.

Thirty-three years…But it seemed that they wouldn't be making their thirty-fourth anniversary, no matter how close that day was.

Francis squeezed the hand he was gripping, the hand belonging to his soul mate, his petit lapin, who was laying there in the hospital bed, looking so very vulnerable. Which wasn't right at all, Francis knew, Arthur shouldn't look vulnerable, he should look fierce, full off passion, ready to fight off anything.

The cancer probably destroyed that too.

A lot of things were hooked to his husband and although he knew this was for his benefit, Francis still had the strong urge to pull them all out, so he could pretend, pretend they were somewhere else. Their safe home or the old cottage far away in Hong Kong, that beautiful chapel in Las Vegas or gazing up at the Eiffel tower, in the city of love. But all those tubes and wires made it very, very hard to pretend, made it very hard to imagine the strong, shining, healthy Arthur. Though the ever present glint in those green eyes told the tall blonde that not all the fight had left his husband. But unfortunately, Those eyes were closed now, and his chest was slowly rising and falling, Francis wondered what his love was dreaming about…

The little hospital room were Francis had practically lived the last few weeks was –although there were only two other people in the room- quite packed. The doctors had told them it wouldn't be long now and naturally Arthur's immediate family would accompany him in those final hours. Alfred was sitting quietly in front of him, on the other side of the bed. Matthew was next to him; this was probably the only time they had ever been equally silent.

Yes, only he and their sons were allowed at this time, but Francis knew their friends and other family were standing behind the door; in the hallway. They all had a chance to say their goodbyes several hours ago. Arthur had been exhausted and Francis had whispered to him that he should sleep for a while. Just as Francis was about to talk to the boys (men, now), a weak voice came from the hospital bed.

"…Francis…?"

All three were at attention right away, Francis squeezed Arthur's hand again as those eyes fluttered open. Alfred seemed very close to tears again and Matthew was looking the saddest Francis had ever seen.

Francis tried to smile at Arthur, but he knew it was forced. "What is it, L'amour? Are you thirsty?"

"You should…stop…" It seemed to get harder and harder for Arthur to speak regularly and it stabbed Francis right in the heart when he remembered the long tirades Arthur had once been able to do.

"…looking so…so down… it…doesn't suit y-you." Arthur gave him a weak little smile. "Shouldn't you… be flirting…with some nurse?"

Francis couldn't hide a real little smile at Arthur's playful tone and Alfred and Matthew seemed to have the same reaction. Francis smoothed Arthurs hair from his face before answering.

"And why would I do that? If I have someone like you right here to flirt with, mon petit lapin?"

If Arthur had enough strength, he would've punched him for that nickname, Francis knew. They would've wrestled a little and Francis would've let the shorter blonde chase him around. But Arthur didn't have enough strength, so instead the blonde settled for a glare.

"It's still a…horrid…nickname…no matter how…much you…u-use it." Arthur had to take a big gulp of air after that and Francis saw Alfred clench his fists. "You…stupid frog…"

He wasn't insulted by the name, Arthur had called him that name so much that it had become an endearment rather than an insult. Francis once again smoothed Arthur's hair, ignoring the scowl he got in return, and spoke again.

"You should rest Arthur, the doctors…" Francis had to catch himself for a minute, he had almost let his voice break. "the doctors say you need your rest."

"I don't care…about…the bloody doctors…" Arthur stubbornly said, and how could Francis have expected any other response? Blue and green met, and Francis understood what Arthur was saying; there was no time for sleep anymore, no time for anything but their little family being together. Arthur's days were numbered and he knew this perfectly well.

"Dad, you should really listen to Papa, the doctor knows best." Matthew spoke up and Francis knew the boy meant well, knew that both their boys still hoped for that one chance, for that one miracle, that miracle that would save their beloved father. Francis knew it wouldn't come.

Alfred remained silent, but his gaze was centred on his father's face and he was still clinging to Arthur's hand. Like gripping it would somehow keep the man there. Even though both boys were in their twenties, sometimes they were still just like children.

"I just…wanted to tell…you three…a few things…before…"

The silence hang thickly in the room when Arthur took another deep breath, still struggling with the words, still not able to speak more than a few words at once. Francis saw both boys looking like the world was ending –which in a way it was- not willing Arthur's next word to come out. Francis went to sit on the bed, wrapped his arms around his husband and tried to give him as much strength as he possessed.

"Before…I die."

Fancis could almost hear both boys heart break, together with his own. Yes they had known, but none of them had dared speak it out loud, even though the end was so obviously near, so very, very near.

"No!" Ah, poor, delusional Alfred. "No! I told you dad! I will find something! I will be a hero and I will find a way to-"

"I love you, Alfred." It was said without any breaks, without a single stutter and Francis could feel Arthur shake in effort. "And I love you, Matthew."

Then, for both boys – _men!_ - the tears came and they wrapped their arms around their father just like Francis was doing, so the bed was one tangled mess of limbs. The doctors would've probably protested against it, but Arthur's face was the happiest Francis had seen since they discovered the disease. So it was okay.

When they let go, Arthur took the opportunity to speak again.

"I would…like…to speak…to your father…a minute."

Both Alfred an Matthew looked reluctant to leave, but they nodded anyway. Alfred ruffled his father's hair, the same way –Francis noticed- as Arthur had done to the boy when he was small.

'All right, just don't go anywhere while we're gone." _Just don't die._

Both stepped out stepped out of the room and it was just Francis and Arthur alone. Suddenly, Francis couldn't look into those eyes anymore and when his blue ones started to burn, he had to look down. His hand tightened, once again, on Arthur's. A place to hold, a lifeline.

"It…will be…okay…" He heard Arthur soft voice and memories assaulted him.

_Thirty years _

"H-how?" Even though Francis wasn't the sick one, this time _his _voice was shaking. "H-how will it be okay? When you're gone…"

"I thought…you'd be jumping at…the chance to get…some…young thing…to play with." Francis immediately recognized the playful tone, the light smile in his words… but the time to play around had passed, Francis knew this, so he didn't mockingly say to Arthur he would very well like that, because he didn't. He didn't.

No, he just lowered his face into the crook of his husband's neck, breathing in the scent that belonged to his beloved. "I just want you…just you… I don't want you to go."

"…o Francis…"

He wrapped his arms a little tighter and pulled Arthur further towards him. Holding tight, just like Alfred had done, in the vain hope he could stop the clutches of death from taking his love.

"Do you remember?" Francis didn't know what he was referring too and Arthur probably didn't either; there was so much to remember. But still, the memories assaulted both of them and Francis untangled himself from the fierce Britt to gaze into his eyes.

Thirty-three years ago they married.

Forty years ago they met.

They remembered every last moment.

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I know, I know. I have this thing for sick!Arthur or injured!Arthur, it's a affliction, really :p

But what did you think? Good? Bad? Terrible? Please comment! (seriously, please!)

(p.s whoevers interested, the next chapter for 'a big brother protects' will be posted within a week)


	2. June 12th 1972

_**I do not own Hetalia.**_

_**This is a chapter I have already pulished once, but back then I made it with the idea for a series of oneshots like this together. So I took it off with the intention of putting it up again later. (So if it is familiar to you, that is the reason)**_

_**I hope you like!**_

_**I do not own Hetalia.**_

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_**J**__**une 12**__**th**__** 1972**_

Francis sighed, he was so comfortable in that big soft bed, lying on top of the covers…naked. He was always the happiest when in his home country and now that Arthur was with him he finally understood why Paris was truly called the city of love and not the city of lust. Last night had been…amazing, mind blowing… it wasn't as all those American movies portrayed it; no, their sex had been bitchy, messy and somewhat violent, but Francis sure as hell wouldn't trade it for the world. Slowly Francis pushed himself up, Arthur wasn't next to him when he awoke a few minutes ago and the French blonde could hear the shower running in the bathroom. Grinning, Francis took his trusty video camera out of the bag that was lying next to the bed –it had been thrown from his shoulder in the threats of passion- and began fondling with the bottoms. Elizabeth, that deliciously evil girl, had given it to him with instructions to get as much on tape as possible and Francis had done so, he had captured a lot of their holiday together. He knew that Arthur hadn't really minded; they both wanted a reminder about those peaceful times; the peace was sure to be disrupted very soon. They had decided to come clean with their relationship when they returned from their trip and if Arthur's word was anything to go by; his family sure as hell wouldn't be happy to discover that not only was their son gay, but he was also in a relationship with a Frenchman. Not that his own family wouldn't be shocked, sure they knew that Francis was bisexual (not a very big surprise there) but the fact that he was in a committed relationship with someone was sure to induce some heart attacks from some of the older generation of the Bonnefoy family. And if that didn't do it, Arthur's humungous eyebrows and messy hair sure would; the family had always been opposed to shaggy looks. However, Francis knew his family would accept Arthur, even if it was only because of his beautiful forest green eyes, which Francis knew for sure, his mother would adore. He knew that his family would be happy that he had lost his heart to someone. Arthur had firmly told him that they couldn't expect anything like acceptance from the Kirkland family, though Francis doubted that, his people skills surely were _manifique_, he could charm all parents.

Still, Arthur seemed pretty convinced that they would step into the fourth circle of hell when their trip ended.

The shower was turned off and Francis grinned a little to himself, pressing the record bottom. He held the camera trained on the bathroom door and surely, a minute later Arthur came walking out. His hair was still dripping a little and the blonde was furiously rubbing it with a towel. He was wearing one of Francis's shirts, the Frenchman noticed, a bottom up shirt that _just barely_ reached his mid-thigh,the only other thing he was wearing a pair of socks that reached to his mid-calf. Francis swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry, his boyfriend truly looked adorable. Apparently Arthur had decided that his hair was dry enough, because he carelessly threw the towel away from him and turned to the Frenchman.

"Oh!" Arthur's eyes widened. "You're awake, listen why don't we…Are you still playing with that bloody video camera?"

Francis grinned at his lover, alright; maybe Arthur hadn't been that happy with the constant presence of that thing. "Ma petit lapin, I only want to capture your beauty and adorable-"

"Can it frog, you should know by now flattery won't work on me." Arthur walked forward an tried to make a grab for the camera, but Francis was faster; he grabbed the hand that was making a move on the camera and pulled, hard. With a undignified shriek Arthur came tumbling on top off him. Francis immediately moved one strong arm around his love's waist, holding the smaller blonde in place. "I beg to differ, Cher, last night flattery worked quite nice on you, non?"

Arthur popped his head up and glared, then, after he found that he couldn't get up because of an (now) ass grabbing arm, he glared even harder. "Release. Me. Now." Arthur growled. "You slimy frog!"

Francis's smile only got broader and he gently lay the video-camera on the nightstand, in a way so that they were still in the camera's range. After that he pulled his adorable little bunny up, so that their chests were touching and in one fluid motion, he flipped them. Francis was now on top, he felt his bare skin rub against his own shirt which Arthur was wearing. He felt Arthur's surprisingly soft and hairless legs slide against his own as he lay between them. He felt both his own and his love's heartbeat and he realised that _this_ right there was the place he wanted to be, forever and ever. Together with his Arthur, cursing and glaring beneath him, in a cheap hotel room in the middle of Paris. Was this true happiness? True love?

"Francis! What the hell are you doin-mphhh" Francis lips found the other's and he could taste the toothpaste in Arthur's mouth, he let his tong slide in that delicious mouth which so often offended him. His hands wandered to his beloved legs and he stroked them, grinning when he noticed that Arthur had stopped his struggles and had wrapped his arms around his neck. It was just so _them_; the fighting, the passion; they were not the kind of couple that looked deeply in each other's eyes during sex and asked the other if it was alright. They were different, they did what they wanted, what they desired and trusted that if the other had a problem with that he would make his opinion loud and clear. Francis had never felt more free or exuberant, he had never, in all his life, imagined he would love somebody as much as he loved Arthur. So he had no doubt in his mind that they would conquer both their families, that they would demolish every and any obstacle in their way; because that was simply who they were.

*They didn't leave the bed for the rest of the day.

Needless to say, Elizabeth was very happy with her tape.*

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**Please review!**

**AN: I've changed the year from 1971 - 1972, because 1971 was a mistake.**


	3. March 15th 1984

**I do not own Hetalia**

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**March 15****th**** 1984**

"Now why don't you two tell papa what happened?" Francis calmly asked his two sons, who both looked very guilty and nervous. The room was a complete mess, potted earth was spilled over the ground and the pot itself was in pieces, a chair had fallen on its side, muddy footprints everywhere, one curtain was hanging by a tread and the kitchen vaguely smelled of burned food (though his husband might have been responsible for that one). This was the room he came home to after doing the groceries that afternoon, this was what Alfred and Matthew had managed to do in the fifteen minutes he was gone, this was the situation he would later have to explain to his (easily angered and sometimes downright prissy but oh-so adorable) husband. Though thank god for the small miracle that Arthur would be arriving home late since he was at some sort of conference. Hence the reason Francis had taken a day off so the children wouldn't be alone, because clearly, looking at the ruined room, those little rascals couldn't be left to their own devices. No matter how much they claimed that they were big enough (nine years old) to take care of themselves. Though it was a little impressive how much damage they had been able to inflict in the short amount of time he'd been away.

Francis smirked a little when he saw the twin looks of apprehensiveness and fear, no doubt, by now Arthur would've grounded them like no tomorrow. The twins were used to their daddy's rather strict policy (though Alfred broke this 'policy' mostly once a week) since Arthur was often the one that stayed home and took care of them when they returned from school (since he could write his books or articles at home) and Francis was the one who cooked and played with them in the evenings. Not that Francis had never punished the boys before, he was plenty invested in the lives of his cute little sons, but Arthur had to deal with it far more often and this was what the boys were used too.

Which was actually a good thing; Francis mostly was far too lenient, he shuddered what kind of boy Alfred had become without Arthur's stern gaze and firm stance.

His _petit lapin_ was such a mother hen.

"I was just playing a game and Matthew got all weird!" Alfred shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Matthew who seemed very close to tears and was grabbing his teddy bear (he still hold on to his old toy, no matter how much Alfred teased him with it) rather tightly. The boy was gazing at the ground, silent like always.

Just like Arthur and him worried about Alfred's lack of concentration and general loudness, they worried about Matthew's lack of speech and inability to stand up for himself.

Francis frowned, he didn't really trust Alfred's explanation, Matthew would never voluntarily trash the living room. "Now, now, mon petit, no need to yell. What kind of game were you playing?"

"I was just playing with his stupid bear for a second!" Alfred huffed, little chest forward in confidence. "And then Matthew started yelling for no reason, next thing I know he's chasing me!"

Next to Alfred, Matthew was nervously wiggling about, his grip tightening on his favourite little friend. For a moment he looked as if he was about to say something to defend himself, but at the last moment his confidence seemed to fail him and he let his head hang.

Francis sighed, the two were as different as night and day, though they looked surprisingly alike. "Then," Francis addressed both boys once again. "How did all this-" he gestured around his ruined living room. "-happen?"

"Mattie was chasing me, so I had to be a super cool agent and try to shake him off, but it's all Mattie's fault 'cause he wouldn't stop chasing me!" Alfred once again loudly gave a favourable (to him) explanation and Francis could guess what happened. Alfred never truly lied, as Arthur would often complain, he would just _bend_ the truth a little.

"Mathieu, mon petit? Would you like to tell me your part of the story?" Francis shifted a little closer to Matthew who was still intent on staring at the floor, only shifting a little when called upon. Next to him, Alfred fell silent.

Matthew's violet eyes locked with Francis blue ones, and that tear-filled gaze instantly melted his already pretty soft and loving heart. "Go on." He tried to encourage his young son, who would always fall silent when he had done something wrong.

"Alfred…" Matthew started, shooting a wary glance at his brother, who nastily glared back. Francis shot him a stern look however and the boy gulped; no doubt Arthur would've already told the boy off. "Alfred was hurting Kumajirou… He stole him from me a-and he was pulling his ear…" Matthew swallowed, visibly trying to refrain from crying. "Daddy said… Daddy said Alfred wasn't allowed to steal Kumajirou anymore, he s-said so yesterday…" Matthew started hugging his little bear. "I just wanted my b-bear back…"

Francis raised a brow; so yesterday Arthur had the same problem. Normally they would discuss their days at night in bed, but that particular night Francis had to do some overwork at the restaurant and Arthur had turned in early, seeing he had to be up disgustingly early the following day to be on time on his conference, where boring people would talk about boring books. Not that his husband was boring… Well…most of the time he wasn't, but really; who chooses reading a book over sex? It's unacceptable!

But back at the situation at hand; he had two nervous looking boys in front of him, one overly confident and the other painfully shy, he had a ruined living room, a bear with a (he just noticed) ripped ear and a husband who would be extremely smug if he found out how Francis had failed to keep the boys 'nice and quiet lads'.

Francis sighed again, dramatically this time, he was sure the boys noticed it. Then he took a moment to collect his head. Nodding to himself, Francis was ready to give his verdict.

"Alfred," The boy sprang to attention. "you should not steal things from your brother, and you certainly shouldn't be damaging them-"

"But!" Alfred protested. "He's much too old for his bear! People are going to make fun of him if-"

"-I wasn't done yet Alfred, don't interrupt me."

The blonde boy gained a colour and began to mimic his brother in staring intently at his shoes. "'M sorry, papa."

Francis could barely contain his manly squeal of excitement; they were both just so cute and adorable! It seemed like Matthew couldn't let go of his treasured toy and Alfred was afraid the boy would get teased for it; the loud boy's actions over the past few weeks made sense now. He had just been trying to protect his little brother.

"Now Alfred, like I said, don't temper with your brother's toys again you need to understand that even if _you_ have outgrown them, for some children they are still very important. Heck, even your daddy stills owns a stuffed unicorn." Francis chuckled a little, seeing Alfred grin evilly and Matthew with a relieved smile on his lips. His husband was not going to be happy at him for disclosing that little fact to the kids. It did not matter though; fiery Arthur was also a very sexy Arthur. "and Matthew," The boy in question gave a tiny nod. "If Alfred does such a thing again you will go to me or your daddy all right? No more chasing your brother."

"'Kay, Pappa. I am sorry."

Francis smiled, he just couldn't be angry at his two little angels. Speaking about being angry…

"Let's clean this mess together now, before your daddy will pop a vein."

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Reviews are love ;)


	4. June 3rd, 1990

_**Thank you all for your wonderful reviews!**_

_**I do not own Hetalia!**_

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_**June 3**__**rd**__**, 1990**_

Arthur angrily got out of the car, the high school in sight. He threw the car door closed and practically stomped towards the building, all the while emitting a dangerous furious aura.

Arthur was absolutely livid, that boy had done it again! That lad would be the end of him someday, he was sure of it. Just when Arthur thought Alfred had grown up a little he pulled some stunt again and got himself into trouble. Arthur was so sick of getting called by the principle and being told that his son had once again misbehaved, having to leave in the middle of _work _for god's sake (meaning his writing; being a published writer). Absolutely no regard for common courtesy, he didn't know where Alfred got his bad habits, but Arthur was bloody sick of it. This was the second time that week and the sixth that month.

With a thunderous expression Arthur opened the door of principal's office and walked inside with firm and strong strides. Arthur may be a little on the short side, but he always made sure to make the height deficiency up with confidence. Three faces were turned his way when he stepped into the office; the principle, a huge kid -sporting an equally huge black eye- who Arthur knew was in his sons class and his son himself, sporting a bruise on his jaw. Arthur pressed his lips together, it wasn't exactly hard to see what happened.

A fight. _Again._

Why couldn't Alfred just behave?

To his credit, the boy did look a little ashamed of himself and was shooting him a rather apologetic look. If it wasn't for the fact that he had seen that look _so _many times recently, he would've been able to cut his son some slack, but good lord, this really had got to stop; Alfred was so bloody close to being kicked out of school!

Alfred had been doing fine the previous year, but ever since puberty had _really _kicked in and that Russian exchange student had been transferred to his class, things had started to go downhill. To be completely honest, he was starting to worry. No matter how many times Francis reassured him this violent an rebellious streak was just a phase, he still couldn't help but wonder if it was something more. Arthur shot his son a withering glare (Alfred cringed) before moving to sit down.

"Hello, Mister Bleidschmidt." Arthur addressed the Principal, who he had gotten to know far too good these last months. Despite the fact that they had already been friends long before that. "What did he do this time?"

Mr. Bleidschmidt nodded in greeting. "Mr Kirkland-Bonnefoy, I'm afraid Ivan and Alfred once again deemed it necessary to act violently towards each other." The stern and serious man shot both boys a disappointed look. "Even though we have told them time and time again that such behaviour is not acceptable. However Mr. Bravinski hasn't arrived yet, so I will explain everything when he'll arrive."

Arthur nodded; it was only natural to wait for the other's father, no matter how much that guy made him uncomfortable. Mr Bravinski was a rather unnerving man and Arthur didn't like how he looked at either him or Alfred. Unfortunately, Arthur had been forced to see the unpleasant guy rather often recently. Arthur sighed and let his eyes roam over his son's face and body; the boy didn't seem very injured or hurt. The only reason he hadn't run to his son with worried words and shouts when he heard his son had gotten into a fight (like Arthur _had_ done after the first fight a few months ago; he could rather be a worrywart) was because by now he knew his son could receive and pack quite a punch. Alfred had really grown the previous year, going from a rather awkward, lanky and thin teenager to a big, muscled football player. The boy had long ago grown taller than him, but now the boy had even managed to surpass Francis, Arthur inwardly grinned; the frog was rather sour about that. Arthur had wondered many times if the sudden interest in sports and strength had been awakened by the arrival of the Russian student.

But no matter how big his son got, he was still his little baby.

And Arthur would be angry, furious, with the Russian kid for hurting his beloved son, if not for the fact that Arthur knew (from Matthew) that Alfred reacted just as violent and aggressive to the other as Ivan did to Alfred. Arthur knew his son could take care of himself physically but it was rather obvious that inside he was still a little child. Besides, Ivan wasn't so bad, Matthew made Arthur believe; the boy mostly kept to himself and although a little creepy, he still seemed to have friends. Which Alfred had dubbed his _slaves. _Arthur sneaked a look at the Russian student, once again the look in the kid's eyes unsettled him, for some reason, he always got a rather peculiar feeling in his stomach when he took in the other child's expression and stance. He didn't know why exactly, but it was still there.

Mr. Bravinski came only two minutes later, with a closed off expression on his face and a violent anger in his eyes. The man gave a quick nod to Ludwig Bleidschmidt and, just like always, send one of those unnerving looks his way. To Arthur's surprise he could feel Alfred stiffen beside him, but he nonetheless returned the strange look with a polite nod (he was a gentleman after all). They were both there now, and the strict principal began.

"It seems," The man started. "That we have a problem..."

"Quite." Arthur nodded. "What did they do this time?"

Ludwig glared at the two. "Even after the many warnings I have given these two, they seem unable to stop their violent ways. Once again they started a fight with each other, scaring the other students, causing damage to school property and shaming this very school. I, for one, am sick of this behaviour. I have no idea why you two-" he looked at Alfred before moving his gaze to the Russian student. "-have such a dislike for each other, but this has got to stop. Alfred," Both Arthur and Alfred sat a little straighter. "you've always been a nice and kind student before all this, though you could've spend more time studying; you never tried to harm any of the students…"

"That's because HE-" Alfred began.

"Be quiet, Alfred." Arthur interrupted him, the principal was talking after all, and they had heard it all before; Ivan was a jerk. Ivan gave him glaring looks. Ivan was asking for it. Ivan was a bad person. Ivan was a communist.

Arthur had yet to hear the true reason for Alfred's hatred and that worried him terribly.

"And Ivan," Ludwig continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "You don't strike me as an impulsive person, or someone who would just randomly explode in anger. Also, your previous school spoke only good things about you."

Ivan nodded politely.

"So I'm asking what possessed both of you this afternoon. What has been possessing you this whole school year? If these violent actions don't stop soon, I'm afraid I have to take drastic measures-"

Alfred jumped up and Arthur supressed a groan of embarrassment; _here he went again. _"NO! That isn't fair! I was here before him, _I _belong here! He doesn't! You just can't-"

"I 'just' can do anything Alfred." Ludwig harshly interrupted Arthur's son. "I would be perfectly in my right to expel both of you for what happened today. What on earth possessed you two to fight inside a classroom? What on earth possessed you two to keep fighting even after you went through the glass window?! You two are very lucky you were on the ground floor!"

Arthur went pale and shot up."…What? The glass window?!" He quickly turned around to once again look his son over, now he noticed scratches on the blonde's face. "Why didn't you tell me?!" he quickly grabbed Alfred by the chin and tilted his face up, accessing the damage. "Where are you hurt?"

Alfred groaned, embarrassed. "Dad…please, stop, not in front of-"

"I won't bloody stop, Alfred! You two are clearly out of control!" Arthur berated his son, contemplating if he should remove the boy's shirt to look for injuries there. Next to them, both Russian males stayed completely unmoving, the cold hard eyes of Mr. Bravinski never changing.

"Your father is completely right, Alfred." Ludwig turned to Arthur. "Don't worry, the nurse already checked them over, they're both fine. But let this be the last warning, Alfred, Ivan. Now as punishment, both of you will be attending detention after school for a month, as well as helping the janitor clean the school every Saturday. You will be together, but you won't pick a fight. This is the last time something like this will happen, _if _there ever is a next time, you'll both be in serious trouble."

Arthur knew Alfred was itching to add his two cents and defend himself, so he shot the boy a stern look that made Alfred's jaw clap shut.

"As for the broken window; the cost of that will be split and send to your house. Damage to school property has to be repaid, as you might understand."

Arthur nodded. "I completely understand, Ludwig, we will pay our share." Damn, money was tight enough as it was, with Francis recently fired and his book not even half finished, out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Alfred flinch. "I again want to apologize for my son's behaviour."

Ludwig shot him a little smile; Arthur really had seen the man too often, ignoring off course that Ludwig was his best friend's little brother. "I know Arthur, just make sure he will see some sense."

"Hey I'm sitting right here!" Alfred protested.

"And Mr. Bravinski, I'm sure you will you straighten your son out too?"

The intimidating man nodded, still stoic as ever and Arthur was struck again with an uncomfortable feeling. "I will, do not worry about that."

The way he said it was strange, there wasn't anything reassuring about the tone nor did it sound threatening. But it was enough to make Ivan, the boy who had been the picture of emotional stability the whole time, freeze up in his chair. A strange emotion in his eyes.

Arthur did not like it.

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*sigh* Whenever I make I story like this I can't help adding dark themes and such...oooh well, I Hope you liked it. I think I'll be adding the ages of Arthur, Francis, Alfred and Matthew above every chapter in the following days, I think that may be easier... or something.

Following chapter will be a happy fluffy, cuddly one!

Please, review, because I looooove them so much :D


	5. July 3rd 1964

**I do not own hetalia**

**Short chapter is short, but I've update two at a time so I hope I'm forgiven. Oh yeah, fluff happens in the next one, this one...not so much.**

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**July 3****rd**** 1964**

He woke up around three O'clock in the night, the blanket felt strange and clammy on his skin, a result of the heat wave that had been pestering the country recently. Uncomfortable, stifling heat, made all the more unbearable by the large body clinging to him. He knew exactly where he was, knew exactly what had happened, he didn't suddenly come to a shocking revelation and had to bolt from the bed in blinding panic. No, he knew what he had done, had not forgotten, not even in his sleep, what he had become. Though he could feel the dull ache in his lower back and the nausea developing in his stomach, he mostly felt numb.

Slowly, terribly slowly, he untangled himself from both the blanket and the other body, which made a low groaning sound but remained fast asleep. He felt an unknown emotion developing in his chest; it took a moment to identify it as hatred, soon followed by disgust, he just wasn't sure for who he felt the hatred, or for what he felt disgusted.

Numb. He was so numb.

Cold. It was so, so cold. Not in the room, not his body, not even in his mind, but in his heart.

He was lost, what would become of him now? Which path would he take from here? What could he possibly do to return to the person he was?

How was he supposed to go on?

Part of him wanted to just forget, the other part wanted to always remember.

He felt as if it was somebody else who grabbed his clothes and pulled them on, as if it was somebody else who sprinted to the front door, through the halls of the hotel and down the stairs. Somebody else who ran into the darkness of the night, the pouring rain, and became violently ill in a dark alleyway.

And as he disappeared in the dark and faceless night, Arthur couldn't help but wonder if he would ever be happy again.

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**Please read & review!**


	6. September 25th 1990

**I do not own hetalia. Enjoy.**

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**September 25****th****, 1990 **

The children were both _out_, together. Apparently, Alfred and Matthew had finally started to act like brothers again. Arthur couldn't for the life of him figure out why the two had been so hostile towards each other the last few weeks, don't misunderstand; he had very much tried to figure it out, god knew he had. But to his immense mortification and relief Francis seemed to have been right; it had all been temporary, probably result of some teenage dramatics, and the two seemed to be patching things up again.

Which was why the both of them were now away on a Friday night and Francis and Arthur were blissfully alone. Now, this didn't happened _that _often, since both his and Francis's work were stressful and the previous weeks had seen their sons individually sulking in their rooms. Not that Francis's wandering hands ever seized even right in front of their sons eyes, but Arthur liked privacy, liked gentlemanliness and the occasional –dare he say it- cuddling session. Not that he didn't possess a definite wild side as well as an exhibitionist one. But he considered these long buried under parenthood and his own pride. Though, on rare occasions Francis could persuade him to-

But that was not the point.

The point was that he hadn't had a chance to really_ be_ with his husband - uninterrupted ("Eeeew! Pappa! Dad! Get a room!"), without haste ("Mon cher, quick let's jump in that closet-!") and completely devoted to each other ("Francis! Ah-! Don't, I have to get to work, my boss-!") – in weeks. So Arthur was quite happy when it seemed like both his son's problems with each other _and_ his sexual problems with his husband were solved. The strange thing? They seemed to have solved themselves, without his help…huh.

Yes, Arthur was content as sat on their couch, entangled, watching –but not really paying attention- some horrible French movie which Francis had insisted was really good. All right, it wasn't a horrible movie, Arthur actually quite enjoyed it. But he didn't fail to notice that his husband had already pulled him close, had already slung one arm tightly around him, while the other was tracing seductive little circles on his thigh. Yes it stood clear in his mind that Francis would maybe like to do something else than watching telly, that maybe Francis would like very well to do him.

Arthur smirked, letting his head fall in that familiar spot in the crook of Francis's neck. He felt Francis smirk but couldn't bring himself to care. The frog _was_ sexy, sometimes it didn't really matter that Arthur admitted this to himself. He was still a frog though. They kept their position for a while and Arthur became engrossed in the movie once again. This didn't last long however, as Francis's hand started wandering higher, and higher and his other arm pulled him much tighter against the other. Arthur smiled a little to himself, before deciding he had waited long enough to take some sort of action. He was in no shape, manner or way _submissive_ to Francis…except for the… actual act of intercourse. Having made a decision, Arthur pulled up his leg and swung it over the French men's legs. His whole body followed and so, in one fluent and swift motion he was successfully straddling Francis's lap. Legs on either side of him and facing each other. Now, if Francis had been in a somewhat playful mood, he would've complained about him blocking his view of the movie. But, it seemed that this wasn't the mood the Frenchman had decided to obtain. For he gave a surprised but encouraging groan and moved his hands to Arthur's hips. He tightly grabbed them and moved Arthur a little higher on his lap.

"Enthusiastic, aren't we _mon petit lapin_?" His eyes danced a million shades of beautiful blue when he said this and Arthur couldn't help but remember all the reasons they were still together. He moved his hands around the other's neck and placed their foreheads together.

"It's been a long time when we were together like this…" he murmured very, very softly. Words only for the one he was clinging to. "I missed this…" Only him, forever.

Francis gave a surprised startle and Arthur knew exactly why; it wasn't often he talked like this, so open, so honest, almost vulnerable. Arthur knew that Francis loved their little games and petty fights, but he also knew that he cherished the moments they could be themselves, completely and utterly.

"…_oui_, I have missed us too." Arthur received a small peck to the lips.

"Missed your touch."

Another peck.

"Missed your skin."

A kiss now, longer, deeper.

"your hands."

Another kiss, long and gentle fingers grabbed one hand and intertwined their fingers.

"Your lips."

What followed was the kind of kiss that took his breath away and left him dazzled and cross-eyed.

"All of you."

French hands now moved lower and lower, to the part of Arthur's body that seemed most private and personal. But Arthur didn't mind, this wasn't a quickie in a closet or a blowjob between jobs. No, this was _making love_, not mindless screwing each other were Francis often had to talk him into participating and were he would call the frog a pervert. So different, so much more personal, so much more intimate.

This was _them._

And as they became more passionate and fierce, as they ravaged each other, as Arthur clung to his husband and Francis clung to _him_ all the same, he figured he was pretty lucky to have been able to find, marry and love his one and only soul mate.

"…Ah… F-francis…"

"A-ah…_Merde_ …I love you."

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I hope you liked! Please R&R!


	7. October 3rd 1990

Arthur; 40

Francis; 43

Alfred; 16

Matthew; 16

I do not own hetalia

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**October 3rd 1990**

They were slowly walking back to their house, the weather was abnormally cold for the time of year and Francis saw his husband shiver a little. Being the perfectly romantic man he so obviously was, Francis attempted to warm his little lapin right up by wrapping an arm around his shoulders and thus sharing delicious body heat. Of course, Arthur answered his kindness with a fierce glare, which Francis ignored, and annoyed grumble, which Francis ignored too. But despite his (feeble) protests Francis arm kept his place and the fair blonde smirked, but said nothing.

It had been a good night, Francis supposed, they had enjoyed a nice dinner and an exquisite movie in celebration of the very special date; it had been exactly twenty years ago that they'd met. Oh, what had they been young then, passionate too. Francis had insisted they had to celebrate the happy occasion and even though Arthur had (at first) opposed this("We celebrate our wedding anniversary Francis, not this, it wasn't exactly love at first sight with us remember?"), he had finally relented because Francis could talk him 'round so smoothly (read; Francis had sexually harassed him into it). Nevertheless, even though Arthur had been reluctant for some unknown and probably unimportant reason, Francis knew the other had enjoyed it too. It was late now, almost twelve O'clock, the stars were already out and Francis admired them quietly, before his eyes came to rest on his –tired- husband.

Twenty years, ha! How they had changed, back then, twelve o'clock was the time they _started_ going out. Francis chuckled a little when twenty-year-old Arthur came to mind. Dead sexy twenty-year-old Arthur, with red streaks in his hair, piercings in his ears and the tightest pants you could imagine. Wild Arthur, unpredictable, never truly committing to anyone. At first, not even committing to Francis, although eventually they changed and that fact changed too. Just like Francis tendency to sleep with anyone he found attractive had changed.

"What are you thinking so hard about, Francis?" Arthur disrupted his train of thought.

Francis smirked. "Well, mon petit, I was thinking how good you looked in your tight little jeans twenty years ago."

"What? You choose a day like this to be perverted?" Arthur sighed. "I shouldn't expect any different from you."

Francis grinned. "I was also wondering if you still have them, maybe with a little _squeezing_ they'll fit."

They had reached their house and angrily Arthur threw of Francis's arm and stomped through their front garden.

"And why would I do that? Enlighten me." He retorted.

"Well, mon petit, it would be very pleasurable for me and also for you!"

"You think I don't look good in my regular trousers?"

Francis scoffed. "They look like they would belong to a vieil homme, dear, not like they belong to a man who has such a gorgeous lover."

They were at the front door and Arthur whirled around to point an accusing finger at his face. "A self-obsessed, frog of a lover more like-"

A scream wild and enraged cut him off. Arthur blinked and Francis did too. Neither of them had uttered that sound. It had come from inside. Arthur's eyes widened and he quickly turned around and fumbled with his keys, Francis was right next to him. That shout hadn't meant anything good, he knew. They stumbled into the house, immediately assaulted by a loud voice, Alfred's.

"YOU BASTARD! GET OUT! OUT OF THIS HOUSE!"

A quieter voice followed Alfred and Francis and Arthur immediately recognized that voice as their other son's.

"Alfred! Leave him alone, please!"

The shouting was coming from the living room and the married couple didn't waste any time, within seconds they were able to see what the hell was going on.

There were three people in the living room. The first was Alfred, wearing nothing but his pyjama pants and looking very, very angry. His head was red and he was glaring and pointing fiercely at the person opposite of him. Said person was someone Francis hadn't really met before, but Alfred had complained about him enough to understand who the big boy was. The tall frame, the strong build, the big nose.

This had to be Ivan Bravinski.

Matthew was standing of the side, looking angry but lost. He was also in his pyjama's. His boy's eyes were tearing up, Francis noted. None of the boys seemed to have noticed Arthur and him coming home. They were frozen and saw the confrontation come to a head.

"WHAT DID I JUST SAY? GET OUT!" Alfred shouted, looking truly terrifying.

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Matthew said I could stay." Alfred let out an angry scream and charged forwards, grabbing the bigger boy by the collar.

"Don't you think I don't know what you are about? Using people, hurting them, like your little slaves?! Stay the FUCK away from Matthew-" He hissed in his face, Francis could see the boy's fist itching to hit flesh.

Matthew grabbed Alfred's arm, the one that was grabbing Ivan. "Alfred, stop it! Ivan's just my friend!"

Alfred's head turned to regard his twin. "That's why he comes to your room in the middle of the night? That's why you sneak around with him? Did he threaten you? Did he hurt you?"

Matthew hastily shook his head. "No! It's nothing like that! He is my friend, he needed a place to stay!"

This seemed to elicit some reaction from the Russian, as he flinched and spoke up, soft despair in his voice. "…Matthew."

Matthew turned to him, eyes seemed to beg the other. "Tell him Ivan!"

Alfred looked between the two. "Matthew! You promised you didn't have contact with him anymore." The fist by his side shook.

"Well, you wouldn't stop bitching about it!" Matthew shouted back, clearly having enough from Alfred's behaviour. He flew to Alfred's fist and attempted to pry it of the Russian. "Now let him go!"

"No!"

"What in the _bloody hell _is going on here?!" Francis looked beside him, Arthur seemed to have overcome his shock and stepped forward. Francis shook himself and dutifully followed, a stern look upon his face.

All three boys whirled around, surprised about being interrupted. Almost immediately both Matthew and Alfred became a bit paler. Francis didn't really blame his pétits; his husband was always a fierce force to be reckoned with, especially if he wore the particular expression he was wearing now.

"Dad! Papa!" Alfred yelped, hastily removing his hands from Ivan and putting them up in surrender. "This is not what it looks like!"

"I should hope so!" Arthur made no attempt to hide his obvious disaprovement. "It looked like a _fight _in my living room."

If it had been a less serious situation Francis would tease Arthur that they fought in the living room at least once a day. But he was also quite angry, especially when he noticed that Ivan was sporting several bruises.

"Dad," Matthew took a step to his dad. "Please talk to Alfred! Ivan is my friend-"

"Ivan is a crazy psychopath Matt!" Alfred interrupted his brother. "Just like all your other friends, Lars and that weird Cuban guy!"

Matthew again turned to his brother, clearly very angry. "I can be friends with anyone I want Alfred!"

"Not when it is some dangerous commie, you don't!"

"Like you have such nice friends! Preppy, backstabbing people!"

"No you don't! Don't go dissing my-"

"Enough!" Arthur cut all arguments with his forceful voice and Francis placed a hand on his shoulder to show his support. "You're all done with making such a spectacle in our house!"

Alfred and Matthew instantly fell silent, Ivan was watching Arthur with an intense gaze. For some reason, while seeing the way Ivan was looking at his beloved, Francis felt a protective feeling surge through his body.

"Now, _sit down_, all of you." Arthur gestured to the couch, and the three obediently sat down. Matthew between Ivan and Alfred.

Arthur put a hand to his face and let out a huge sigh. This was Francis que to guide him to the big armchair, Francis himself grabbed a chair and placed it in front of the couch.

"Now," Francis spoke. "What's all this? Fighting in the middle of the night? Strangers in the house? You three should explain it to us."

Arthur perked up. "First; Ivan." The big teen looked towards Arthur. "When did you arrive here?"

"An hour ago." He said. "Matthew invited me over."

Francis felt his eyebrows go up. "This late in the evening?"

Ivan nodded and for some reason his eyes drifted to his husband, green and purple locking gaze. "Da."

"We've been friends for a while now, papa. I didn't say anything because Alfred has been bullying Ivan for a while now."

"I-I haven't been bullying him!" Alfred sputtered. "He has been giving me hell too!"

"Only because you-"

"Let's not get into an argument again please." Francis interrupted them calmly. "So, Matthew, Ivan is your friend. You invited him over, after that Alfred and Ivan got into a fight."

"Yes." Alfred nodded. "Matthew had promised me he wasn't hanging around that crazy maniac anymore. So I got upset when I found him in our _fucking _house."

"I only told you that because-!"

"Enough." Arthur stood up. "I have had enough of you two. It is very late and we are all tired." He turned towards Ivan. "Ivan, maybe it is best if you would return home."

"No, dad, I promised he could stay here!" Matthew piped up, with more force than Francis was used to from the boy. "It's not fair that he has to leave only because Alfred doesn't agree with his presence here."  
"Mon petit." Francis began, and Matthew looked his way hopefully. "You invited a boy in this house to sleep over, don't you think it would've been best to ask us first?"

"Yeah Mattie!" Alfred perked up. "You can't just invite random people over!"

"You have people over all the time! With no warning at all!"

"Well, that's because _my friends_-"

"Hush, Alfred." Francis said. "I think we know your opinion in all of this, I just want an answer from Matthew."

"…We didn't plan anything but when Ivan asked if he could stay over, you two were already away, I didn't want to interrupt your night out."

"I see…" Francis sounded calm but inside he was stewing; his son had invited the other boy over after they had left; so it had been fairly late. Why would the big Russian want to go to Matthew at that hour? He did not trust the other boy, however bad it was to admit it, Francis would agree with Alfred. That boy seemed bad news. "I still think Ivan should return home and we'll talk about all of this in the morning."

"No, papa! This is not fair! Alfred always has people over, so why can't I?"

Francis sighed, he was awfully bad at being the strict and mean parent. When Matthew whipped out those adorable puppy eyes his heart always melted a million times over and he had the hardest time refusing his son. He knew it wasn't really fair, but it seemed to be time to call in the big guns AKA let Arthur handle the scolding, strictness and generally being the bad and evil parent.

"Arthur, dear, what do you think?"

Francis turned to his husband to see him staring with an almost puzzled expression at Ivan, although he was dying to find something out from the boy. Ivan was staring back too, with that same cold expression as before.

"Arthur?"

His husband was startled out of his thoughts and turned to him. He still seemed awfully in thought and absentmindedly traced the material of his jacket.

"I don't know Francis…"

Wait, what?

"It _is _getting awfully late…"

Francis blinked, not expecting that answer at all. He had expected Arthur to jump at the chance to get the violent boy out of their house and into the cold winter air. That was what he did with all their son's potentially 'bad' friends after all. Their sons seemed to be surprised too, Matthew, who had already been hanging his head low when Francis had asked Arthur for his opinion, piped up. Alfred shot up indignantly.

"What! Dad!" He shouted. "Ivan totally is bad news!"

Francis frowned. "Mon petit…"

Arthur shot him a look. "If you didn't want my opinion Francis, you shouldn't have asked it." That remark hit him square in his pride and tickled his conscience. "Furthermore," His husband continued. "We have a spare room for guests and we can't really ring Ivan's parents in the middle of the night to return their son, it's improper."

Arthur took a breath and turned to face Ivan and Alfred. "Though, I want _no _funny business from either of you two. You will both behave, is that understood?"

"But dad!" Alfred tried to protest.

"Alfred, did I make myself clear?"

Alfred backed away a little, protest still evident in his eyes.  
"…Yes, sir."

And that was it. The boys were ushered to bed, with a few more stern warnings. Francis and Arthur were silent when they themselves moved to the bathroom and brushed their teeth, changed for bed, kissed each other to sleep and lay down, backs toward each other (very different ending to the evening that Francis had envisioned).

A few hours later, Francis had still not managed to fall asleep. He was sitting up, watching as Arthur was sleeping, soft breaths in and out, in and out. He lifted his hand and brushed a tuff of hair from his eyes. Blue eyes took in the whole of him, from his covered toes to this large eyebrows, his long eyelashes, long elegant neck, curved body, round squeezable as-

"…Francis?"

Arthur had not moved from his sideward position, turned away from him, huddled in the blankets. His eyes were still closed, but the soft voice had been unmistakable.

"The bruises that boy had… They seemed…" Arthur trailed of and Francis frowned, thinking about the looks the big boy and Arthur had shared.

"What, mon petit?"

"I think… I think Ivan's father is hurting him."

Francis froze.

"I think that is why Matthew took him in tonight."

Oh god.

"Francis? I think we should help him."

How had he missed it? The bruises, Matthew's worried eyes, suddenly being so much more forceful than usual. Ivan's emotionless demeanour that was probably only there to protect himself for further pain.

Arthur's eyes trying to see if the Russian boy was alright.

Francis enveloped his husband in his arms, holding on for dear life and realising that he loved Arthur so incredibly much it hurt him. Arthur turned around and then they were holding each other. The shaggy blonde head tucked under his chin and the smaller hands tangled in his pyjama shirt.

"We shall do everything in our power, my dear."

He remembered, long ago, when both he and Arthur had been very different people. He remembered how the boy with streaks in his hair and piercings in his face had clutched his shirt in the same way. They had been different _and _the same.

Huh. Francis chuckled.

Twenty years after Francis met the boy with the fierce green eyes and unpredictable attitude, Arthur seemed to still be able to surprise him.

…

Huh. Arthur chuckled.

Twenty years after Arthur met the boy with the wavy blonde hair and perverted attitude, Francis was till the sweetest most gentle man he had ever met.

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R&R!


	8. September 3rd 1971

Francis; 24

Arthur; 21

I do not own hetalia

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**September 3rd 1971**

The grass across the campus was green and shiny, students were laughing and talking amongst each other and generally having the best time ever. The sun was bathing all in warmth.

Anyone would've been in a good mood when laying their eyes on the scene.

Well, anyone…

"Damn it, bugger, shit!" a crumbled timetable found its way to the green grass, making it imperfect and a little less green. "This is bull!" The yelling blonde didn't seem to mind the few irritated stares thrown his way, as he was far too busy being irritated himself. The person next to the blonde gave him a sympathetic stare, obviously down himself, his white hair making all blink twice when staring at him (and they did stare of course).

"I know Artie, but it isn't so bad-"

"Not so bad?! Are you kidding me? I'm in the SAME class as that egoistic, wine-drinking, perverted, idiot of a frog-"

"Dear Arthur," A new voice joined the yelling and sympathetic one, this voice being oily and (purposely) thickly accented. "Certainly you are not talking about moi?"

Something that resembled a threatening growl was uttered by the blonde. "Francis… what the hell are you doing here?"

"Ma chérie, you do know that I study here?

"No, I mean what the hell are you doing so close to me? Go away!"

"I am wounded! But certainly gilbert, my dearest and oldest friend would enjoy my company? Since we've already faced such trials and tribunals for our friendship that it couldn't possibly be so that he would not enjoy my splendid and quite handsome –might I add- company."

"…Sure dude."

The oily voiced one wasn't finished yet. "But wait! What do I see here." Que annoying and self-satisfying smirk. "Arthur, did you perhaps dye your hair again? What happened to those atrocious green streaks? And where is that horrible piercing that disfigures your already quite unappealing face?"

The blonde had to pull out all this self-restraint not to strangle the other. "You know very well what happened to them, frog. College regulations, the one _you _pulled through as teacher-assistant."

"Oh hon hon hon, that's right! Well, I can't help it that I appreciate a sophisticated look, and I am so well respected here, you see." Another smirk, since it was the absolute truth; having already gotten his diploma for the French course, the one with the oily voice and superiority complex was officially a teacher-assistant and taking another course. Consequently, he was well-loved by (almost) all staff.

Which really pissed off the one who had been yelling a lot.

"I have NO desire to look anything like you, frog! Besides, why do I have classes with YOU?!"

"Well, dear, you see, when two people love a subject very much, they usually come together in the same classroom to learn about it."

"…shut up."

"How rude, really Arthur, you have to learn to accept that I am just that much better than you in every single conceivable way. Especially since you are _so_ far behind on studying, I mean, while you were out gallivanting across north America, _I _actually got something done."

"Fuck. I am going to be stuck with you for the rest of the semester, aren't I?"

"Yes, my dear, you are. I hope I will survive the trauma of looking at your face every day, because with any luck, it will even be longer than that one semester."

"…I really, really hate you"

"Likewise, my little lapin, likewise."

...

"Dudes, you ready bitching at each other? I think I spotted Elizabeth, so we really need to split because she freaks me the fuck out."

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R&R please!

**AN: Because of a mistake I made the years didn't add up, the mistake was traced back with the help of a observant reviewer and the date of chapter 2 had been changed from 1971 - 1972, because 1971 was a mistake. I hope you all forgive me ;)**


	9. October 7th 1970

Francis; 23

Arthur; 20

I do not own anything

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October 7nd 1970

The nicotine soothed him, it calmed him and comforted him in so many indescribable ways. He took another long drag and watched as the smoke swirled in front of his face for a minute before disappearing in the cold night sky. He had left the party some time ago, sick of watching after a clearly intoxicated Gilbert and a mischievous Matthias. They would find their way back to the van without him, Arthur reasoned as he walked along the sandy pathway.

The park was truly beautiful this time of year, this time of day too. When he looked up he could see the stars shine and glitter, and Arthur mused that it had been impossible to see the stars in the London sky, back when he still lived with his father and brothers. Taking another long drag, Arthur saw a park bench between the leaves and fines and moved to rest his tired limbs. It was no wonder he was tired, he reasoned with himself, they _had _been really busy lately. Not that he was complaining, no, his life had been full of adventure and fun since he had arrived in the states some months ago. He especially liked it when he and the band found villages like the one he was in now, not as small that everyone knew each other, but still small enough that it emitted that feeling of closeness and togetherness.

Arthur took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Sometimes he wondered. Wondered if he was doing the right thing; going off to America weeks after graduation, letting a college education slide, up and leaving his family without more than a hasty 'bye' scribbled on a torn napkin. But then he imagined the other alternative, being back in London and being lectured again by teachers, always having to be on time, detention, duties and getting extra lessons when grades weren't satisfactory.

He shuddered.

Not that he had been a bad student, no, he had actually been quite smart. But still, he had wanted to leave, so leave he did. He didn't regret it, but thinking about the family he left behind he did feel guilty. After all, his family had been a good one, his brothers had loved him even though they gave him a hard time, always teasing and pestering him. His father had always been strict, even a little cold towards him, but Arthur knew it was simply the man's personality and that he deeply cared for all his sons.

"Eyebrows."

Startled, Arthur looked up and saw the face of the obnoxious French guy he had met a few days earlier. The boy was attending college not so far from there and was apparently Gilbert's good friend from before Arthur had met him in the London public school's music class, several years ago. They had seemed pretty good friends alright, not hesitating to piss of everybody and anybody. Arthur had not cared much for the French other at first, but after a few unpleasant arguments Arthur had taken a real dislike to the French pervert. He was vain, egoistic, prideful and couldn't keep his hands to himself for one single second. He also seemed to possess a self-confidence that rivalled Gilbert's, he _knew_ that he was handsome and desired, he _knew_ that most would give him everything he wanted. That was probably why the frog hadn't liked Arthur either; not only did Arthur not care for the Frenchman, he had also publicly rejected him several times. This was fun to do; since the blonde punk mostly wasn't that picky with partners or sex, it was an extra blow to the other's ego.

"What are you doing here frog? Stalking me now?" He tried to give Francis the best glare he could manage, but he was tired so it maybe lacked a little steam. A shame really.

"Non, why would I stalk such an unpleasant creature?" The frog continued to stand before him in all his annoying glory. "I was merely wondering where you were going at such an hour when I saw you leaving. I was thinking that I could bust you for something illegal, imagine my surprise when I saw that you left a perfectly good party to sit in a deserted park on an uncomfortable bench."

During his little speech, Francis had placed his hands on his sides, and Arthur wondered how anyone could ever confuse Francis with a straight person. Then the words sunk in and Arthur smirked.

"I've had a lot of those parties already and there will be a lot more. I'm not like you  
Francis, all excited to finally get out of the dorm. _I_ actually live my life to the fullest, not in some stuffy classroom learning a language that will be dead soon, give or take a few decades."

Francis laughed, a loud full-blown _scornful _laugh. "Believe me Arthur, I know how to have a good time." He purred. "Besides," Now his voice turned vicious. "I think I'm the one living my life to the fullest, tell me Arthur, what will you become in the future? Without any social standards, without a proper education, drinking, smoking and partying? You'll most likely end up on the streets, selling yourself for a few dollars. Although," Arthur was coolly looked up and down. "maybe you're already a bit of a whore, seeing your show the other day."

He should be offended, he knew that. Should be hurt and angry and sad after Francis had insulted him so thoroughly. But this was Francis and they had come to verbal blows before, they both seemed to be able to locate each other's shortcomings with ease and Arthur almost knew what kinds of insults would be thrown his way. In a sense it was nice to argue with the French boy, because of its predictably it was safe, because of its viciousness it was liberating.

"You really don't like people insulting your froggy language do you?" Arthur smirked, because that was expected of him. Because Francis's insults always bounced off from the enormous wall he had built around him. Because Arthur had long since stopped caring about anything regarding himself. But that comment about him being a whore, that was the _one_ that could still sting him. The one thing that could break through to his walls and reach that scared fourteen year old boy that was still inside of him. "Really Francis, are _you_ lecturing people about being loose?" Arthur scoffed. "Fucking hypocrite, throwing yourself at anyone who soothes your tastes…" Arthur paused, standing up and reaching up to lightly stroke the other's jacket. "As I understood it from Gilbert, I _do_ sooth your tastes, don't I? You would've bedded me the first day we met if I hadn't resisted."

Francis narrowed his eyes. "Oui, but that was before I learned about your horrid personality."

Arthur smirked, his hand still firmly placed on the other's chest. "Don't fool yourself Francis, you don't care about personalities. You just care about yourself, sticking it in everybody willing enough. You are just so superficial and _simple._" Francis flinched. "Just a little rich boy who is too used to getting his way and trying to denounce anyone who doesn't meet those desires. Like calling me a whore just because we don't see eye to eye."

"I can call you anything I want, petit."

Arthur's eyes narrowed.

One way or another, he was going to put that smug bastard in his rightful place.

* * *

Please R&R


End file.
